


h-2-o

by Homer42



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, very old very worn out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:33:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2752976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Homer42/pseuds/Homer42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something I wrote like 2 years ago and never looked back on. Until right now. I might go back to this idea later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	h-2-o

Stiles wakes up parched at 2am, his mouth dry and tasting of sleep. Last night he’d skipped over the part of taking care of personal hygiene in his usual route to bed- he had been too exhausted, not having goodnight’s sleep in days, so he chose the shortcut and just flopped into bed without thinking of the dire consequences of passing out when your mouth’s full of pizza-breath. He blinks a few times to re-focus his vision, and tries his darndest to get that gross taste out of his mouth. He needs water. He really needs some water. Mountain Dew can only support the body for so long before it subsides and needs some actual H-2-O in its system. Stiles grunts himself out of bed and quietly steps out of his room and through the hall and down the stairs, careful not to wake his dad. Stiles’ naked feet stick to the cold, hardwood flooring of the kitchen and come up with short popping sounds that echo in the house. He knows his dad can’t hear his stupid feet, but he still curses himself for not getting socks because the sound’s annoying, first off, but it’s also making him feel a little alone and… on edge(?). Though that could just be the mood of the place: dark and eerie. …Okay, wait, his house feeling “dark and eerie” is not good. His house is really the only place Stiles feels safe! Now with werewolves and other monsters running around, pillaging Beacon Hills and terrorizing its citizens at every turn and in almost every goddamn place the city has to offer, his home is really his safe haven; he fears his life almost anywhere else- even somewhere relatively safe, like Scott’s house (his werewolf-bestie), Stiles is still on-edge. Stiles should not be on edge in his own home, dammit!

He sighs and tells himself the feeling can be blamed on his sleep deprivation from over the past week. Or it could just be an undigested bit of beef. A blot of mustard. A crumb of cheese. …Either-or, really (he had all of those on his pizza last night).

Stiles turns on the fluorescent in the laundry room, the only light-source that will highlight the kitchen enough-so without the light reaching his parents’ room and waking his dad. Really, all he should be worrying about right now is not waking his dad and not how frightening the chill of the wind sounds as it howls through the trees outside. Lonely and threatening. Dark and eerie.

Stiles is suddenly hyper-aware of his surroundings… the house seems very still… the house seems a little too quiet—Stiles is thirsty. Stiles should get some water.

He just needs some water.

He grabs a small glass from the cabinet and fills it with the water from the fridge’s dispenser. The water is not as cold as he would have liked it- but beggars can’t be choosers, since the ice would make too much noise. Which honestly would be an improvement seeing as the goddamn house is so quiet. For a second Stiles wishes he took Peter’s offer of the Bite and had become a werewolf himself, just for this moment tonight, just to hear if his father’s heart was still beating.. because the house feels too empty.

Empty. Still. Lonely and threatening. Dark and eerie.

The fluorescent light flickers just as the wind howls again outside, colder than before, tugging at the branches of close trees, their scraping at the house like claws of angry creatures desperate to get inside and tear him limb from very human limb.

 

 


End file.
